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AUDIO: Vienna Boys Choir, 'Pachelbel's Canon in D Major'

Trees II By Alfred Joyce Kilmer's Admirer

Methinks thus I
        shalt naught e'er see, 
A poem lovely
        as this here tree,
Doth sun thus shine
        its countenance,
Gift tree whose loft,
        spreads its expanse,
Its girth above,
        neath midst remained,
Flicks of light burst,
        like windows stained,
The trunk weighs down,
        the cradled youth,
Internal weave
        exploits the root,
Limbed tree who hath,
        purged forth hugged vein,
Thereon, ventures
        long with its frame,
Styled tree stabled
        in wonderment,
Our learned life begs
        our testament,
The tree tilled naught,
        nor didst we toil,
Providence hath,
        sprung from the soil,
God giveth life,
        sips and savors,
Graced from seed thus,
        tree He favors,
Seasons race on,
        timely fashion,
The Divine hath
        shewn compassion,
A poet writes
        in praise of trees,
Songs made of these
        sweet melodies,
'Tis well-rehearse
        endowed in verse,
Fool cool's elbows
        and stubbled toes,
A quill at ease
        a chapter seize,
Joyce 'Trees' as goes
        only He knows.

2020 December 23

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